


You're Invited!

by cryme_anocean



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryme_anocean/pseuds/cryme_anocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We all have a terminal something."<br/>Mickey Milkovich is going to die. And not from being shot during drug runs or in prison like his father. Mandy cries a lot and since it's just them now, he knows he has to make her happy somehow. So he signs up for a group. A group that brings him to Ian Gallagher who isn't going to die. At least, that's what Ian says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Invited!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is completely unbeta'd. I didn't want to scare you away so I thought I just wouldn't tell you but WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH! Now wait, before you click away. Just read it. It's not what you think.  
> This is loosely based on The Fault in Our Stars. Please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is encouraged! I'm also on the hunt for a beta! If you're interested, send me a message on [tumblr ](http://anoldmarriedcouple.tumblr.com/)  
> Also, a little bit of of a timeline here.  
> Ian: 24  
> Mickey: 25  
> Carl: 19  
> Debbie: 20  
> Liam: 11

He's going to die. He knows. He's known. He just never wanted to actually find out.  
  
He's not even the one who took himself to the doctor. His sister had to force him into it. She shoved him into the car after he collapsed in the kitchen and drove him to Mercy Hospital.  
  
When he woke up, the doctor was standing over him in the middle of explaining to Mandy that he has a brain tumor. They don't have health insurance. They don't have money. She had looked over at him, lost.  
  
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a hospital." He explained. The doctor discharged him. But not before handing him his office number just in case.  
-  
It started with headaches. Pain concentrated behind his eyes and the base of his head. He went to the eye doctor. He went to the chiropractor. Nothing helped.  
  
Then he fainted. Mandy forced him to the hospital. He already knew then.  
  
Now he's confused. He finds that he forgets what he's talking about a few moments into conversation. He used to do all the heavy lifting in the house. Not anymore. Mandy forces him to sit and rest. She cries a lot when she thinks he can't hear.  
-  
She thinks he'll die any second. He sees it when she watches him too closely. He feels it in her gaze when it lingers a little too long. And he thinks he'll die any second, too. But he's just not worried about it. "We all have a terminal something." He told the doctor when his sister had gone to sign the discharge papers and he'd tried to convince him to stay.  
  
"I'm worried you'll die alone." She admitted a few days ago when he'd asked why she's so upset about his tumor, "You've always kept your distance from people and I'm worried you'll die all alone." She's become less of herself. She doesn't cuss around him, as if he's breakable. And she won't insult him, as if she's terrified he'll think she doesn't love him. She doesn't act like the Mandy he knows.  
  
So he signs up for "A Support Group for You Who Don't Know What to do About Your Cancer!". He thinks it'll make her feel better about him dying alone. It starts tomorrow. He has to tell her.  
-  
"I signed up for a group thing."  
  
"A group thing?"  
  
"Yeah, like a… a support group for cancer people."  
  
"What for?"  
  
"To make friends."  
  
"You want to make cancer friends?"  
  
"Better than fuckin nothing, don't you think?"  
  
She shrugs and turns back to her dinner. The pink blouse he stole for her two Christmases ago is a little small and rides up when she stretches.  
  
"It starts tomorrow and the doctor said I can't drive." The doctor also told him he could have years before he dies. The tumor is slow growing and most likely won't kill him within the next year. He doesn't think she'd appreciate hearing that. She might start crying.  
  
"You want me to take you?" She seems surprised. He guesses that's because he doesn't ask for things often.  
  
"Why the fuck else would I bring it up?" She shrugs. He sighs.  
-  
"Hey!"  
  
He turns around to see Mandy waving him back to the car. "The fuck do you want?"  
  
"Give me the damn gun! No one is going to attack you at a fucking church!" She snaps and reaches out the window to grab it from his pants. Her arms are too short so she can't reach but he fishes it out and hands it to her anyway.  
  
"You never know." He huffs as he stalks towards New Beginnings Church.  
  
"Make some friends!" She calls after him. He turns around and flips her off.  
-  
"Fuck man! Watch where you're going!" He reaches out to steady himself on the wall. Instead he's gripped by hands on his biceps.  
  
"Shit. I didn't mean to knock into you." He feels like he should apologize for almost falling over. He understands why the doctor doesn't want him driving.  
  
"Yeah, whatever, get off of me." He shoves himself free and pushes past. He catches something red out of the corner of his eye.  
-  
The room where they all meet is a large multi-purpose room. Chairs are arranged into a circle where he finds three other kids sitting. He wonders if he's early. He checks. He's not.  
  
He sits in his own isolated island. For five more minutes they wait. Only three others trickle in. One of the kids sits next to him. He doesn't want him there.  
  
"Alright~! Let's get started!" Too enthusiastic. He glares at the corner. Why did he sign up for this? "So! Since we're going to be spending the next few weeks together, we should probably get to know each other. Let's all introduce ourselves and, if you're not too uncomfortable with it, tell us what kind of cancer you have. I'll start.  
  
"My name's Marc—with a 'c' not a 'k'—and I have been cancer free for six years. I had breast cancer which, yes guys, men can get, too. You next." Marc turns to stare at him. He's old. Old and bald.  
  
"Uh… I'm Mickey and," he watches recognition rise on some faces, "I have a tumor. In my brain. Incurable." He explains and it feels weird to finally admit. It feels real.  
  
"I'm Ian and I've been in remission for about a year." He glances over to him. Red hair that's grown back a little splotchy, small and thin but obviously works out, and a leg. Just one. The other is prosthetic.  
  
"Maybe you'd like to share some of your feelings on that." Marc suggests.  
  
Ian takes a deep breath and he places it. _Gallagher_. "It's boring. I had a bunch of chemo and now I'm in remission. I fucking hate it."  
  
"Please!" Marc starts, "Watch your language! We're in the house of God."  
  
No one here believes in that shit. But he doesn't say anything. The rest of the group goes and finally he can leave. This was dumb. He's not gonna make friends with these people. But maybe Mandy will stop crying.  
-  
"Incurable, huh?" This fuckin  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your tumor. The doctors can't cure it?"  
  
"No. I don't have any fuckin insurance anyway, so it's better they can't." He says and he means it.  
  
Ian hums, "How long do you have?"  
  
"Gallagher, we aren't playing twenty damn questions. Get off my ass."  
  
Ian glances at him out of the corner of his eye, "I just want to know. They said mine was incurable."  
  
"Yeah, but you had chemo. I can't pay for that shit."  
  
"So how long do you have?"  
  
"It's slow growing. If Mandy hadn't brought me in when she did, I probably wouldn't've known for another year. It could kill me whenever, though. There's no set time."  
  
"So you're a walking bomb?"  
  
"Yeah, basically. When she stops, nobody know." He sings under his breath.  
  
"Hey! Ian Gallagher! I haven't seen you in years." Mandy exclaims as she pulls up. She's a sloppy driver. No better than him in this state, though.  
  
Ian looks at her and smiles, "Mandy! It's been awhile. I haven't seen you since high school."  
  
"I heard you went off to Afghanistan." She says.  
  
He hums, "Got cancer."  
  
"Oh shit." She breathes. He doesn't think she can take any more people getting cancer.  
  
"I'm in remission, though. I'm fine." He wonders if Ian is trying to reassure her.  
  
She glances at him. "That's great. What're you doing here, then?"  
  
"Fiona." As if that's an answer. Apparently for her, it is.  
  
"It's always Fiona." She observes.  
-  
"So, Gallagher then?"  
  
"Don't you remember my boyfriend from high school?" She turns to him as they stop at a light.  
  
"Vaguely."  
  
"Ian's gay. I was his fake girlfriend." She explains and then continues driving.  
  
"Hm."  
-  
He was twelve when he realized. Older than some, younger than most. He was watching porn for the first time and he realized that he wasn't staring at the girl. He realized he wasn't looking at her tits or her pussy. He was staring at the guy. The faceless guy who fucked into her. He watched his muscles and his dick and looked at his ass when the camera man moved.  
  
He didn't say anything. He’s come out to a few people only now. You don't grow up in the Southside talking about anyone being gay. Especially not a world where Terry Milkovich lives.  
  
Terry taught him from the time he could hear that fags burn in hell and deserve to be punished. He wonders if this is God getting his revenge. Or maybe Satan. He thinks of how ironic it is that Terry Milkovich, the manliest man, has a little fairy for a son.  
  
He's had casual hookups over the years. Most of them with girls like Angie Zago whose vaginas are stretched out and used up more than pornstars. But sometimes, when he works enough courage to go to the gay part of the Northside, he'll sleep with a guy.  
  
The first time he tried to top, it ended in complete failure. He thought of the girls he fucked and just couldn't keep it up. He thought of boobs and vaginas that smell like fish and not like man. So the guy eventually flips him around and fucks him.  
  
And it's fucking horrible. He forgets to prepare him and just slips on a condom and some lube. And as he's pushing in, Mickey feels tears burn at his eyes because it fucking hurts. It hurts like his ass is being ripped open. And when they're done, he fucking checks to make sure it's not.  
  
So he doesn't sleep with a guy for a long time.  
  
And then he tries it again. This time with a guy who wanted to top. He was a dancer at a gay bar. All he can remember through the drunken haze is red. But he does remember how great it was. He prepped him and slid in slow and then fucked him hard and rough. Just how he likes it.  
  
So he kept fucking guys. Because he likes it. But he kept fucking girls.  
  
Terry died when he turned twenty-one in prison. After knocking up some Russian whore, he started more drug deals to help pay. She threatened to take him to court for rape or some shit. He was caught in the middle of one and they threw him in jail. Apparently, no one knew about the tumor in his brain which caused him to seize to death. Runs in the family.  
-  
"I didn't think you'd come back." Ian says as he plops down next to him.  
  
He's right. He wasn't going to come back. He didn't want to come back. But Mandy got on his ass about it. The church is cold today so he curls his fingers around his elbows to keep warm without being overly obvious. "Didn't seem fuckin enthusiastic enough about it?" He retorts sarcastically.  
  
"Not really, no." Ian quirks a smile in his direction but Mickey doesn't look at him. He never looks at him.  
  
So he stays silent because that was really more of a conversation ender than a conversation starter. He's sure Ian is done talking and so is he. He's been done talking about this stupid support group and his stupid tumor for weeks. He's over it.  
  
Marc comes in and starts them on some dumb exercise where they talk about their fears. He's fucking terrified of this stupid group. More like hates this stupid group. He doesn't think Marc wants to hear that, though. Instead he says nothing. Because Mickey was raised to never fear a thing.  
-  
The next week he returns again and Ian plops beside him again. He smiles, "You're back."  
  
"For my sister." He finally explains because god dammit he doesn't want to talk about it every fucking week.  
  
"Mandy?"  
  
"Do I have another fucking sister?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Jesus. No. Of course for Mandy."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Not twenty questions, Gallagher."  
  
"I'm just curious."  
  
"She thinks I'm gonna die alone or something. She wants me to make friends."  
  
"The great Mickey Milkovich? Making friends?" Ugh. This is why he doesn't want to make friends.  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
Ian shifts and his eyes trail to Ian's stomach that is exposed a little as his white t-shirt rises. "Sorry."  
  
Apologies make him feel dumb. "Don't be." He doesn't speak again.  
-  
"What are you doing after this?" Ian asks him at the end of the meeting.  
  
"Going home?"  
  
"Come back to mine."  
  
"The fuck for?"  
  
"You have terminal cancer and I survived it."  
  
"You fucking pitying me?!" Little bitch, he thinks angrily.  
  
"No. I want to talk."  
  
"No thanks."  
  
"Mickey, come on. Your sister wants you to make friends. What better way to get her off your back than by actually making friends?"  
  
He shouldn't. Ian is gay. Mickey is too. He doesn't know if Ian knows that. Maybe. He's not sure who knows since he officially came out. "Fuck it, fine. You better feed me, though. I'm not coming if there's no food."  
  
Ian huffs a single laugh, "There's food." He's in.  
-  
He's run into. The kid fucking runs into him, screams a sorry, and then keeps on running. "Carl!" Ian yells after him. He knows he can't chase him. He thinks he might want to, though. "My little brother." Little is not a word he'd use for Carl.  
  
She comes next. Her red hair flies behind her and she shoves Ian out of the way. "Sorry Ian, gotta run." She calls as she darts out the door.  
  
The little half-black kid scares him. He latches onto him the second he sits down. He asks a bunch of questions and is then silent. He's silent. He just sits next to him on the couch in silence as Fiona cooks dinner.  
  
"Are you staying?" She'd asked the second he came in.  
  
"Yep." Ian answered for him. His sister trained him well, apparently.  
  
He doesn't bother protesting. Ian will insist and then so will his sister. He shot her a quick text letting her know they went home together. She responded with a series of emojis he doesn't know what mean. Probably something's sexual if the tongue and the eggplant are anything to go by.  
-  
Dinner is good. He finds out that Ian only went to the support group because he owes Marc a favor. Marc wanted the "kids"—Mickey is a damn adult but whatever—to see someone who actually survived cancer aside from him.  
  
Carl is nineteen and recently graduated from high school. Debbie is twenty and she's in college. Ian works at a cancer center. Fiona still works odd jobs. Liam is in middle school. Lip is hardly ever home.  
  
He wants to ask about the army. He wants to ask about the cancer. He thinks it's rude to ask. So he doesn't. He asks about his job. He asks about the things he sees. Ian tells him more people die from cancer than he thought. Mickey wonders when he'll add himself to that list.  
  
"What do you want to know?" Ian asks as he walks him home. He wrapped up in a blue hoodie and dark jeans. He's got a hat covering his ears and his eyes search Mickey. Mickey doesn't turn to look at him.  
  
"What kind of cancer?" Because it's all he really wants to know.  
  
"Osteosarcoma," Ian replies and he notices that Ian's prosthetic leg drags a little. Not noticeable if you're not looking. But still there.  
  
"So like… bone cancer?"  
  
"Yeah. Like bone cancer." Ian doesn't seem uncomfortable talking about it. He doesn't look upset about the cancer or the loss of his leg. Or anything else, really. He wonders if it's because he's too happy he survived the cancer.  
  
"How did you figure it out?"  
  
"It's a little hard to train when your leg is swollen." He doesn't understand what that means. "There was swelling around the tumor. I couldn't walk on it. They had to send me to a hospital to amputate it. The cancer had spread all up my leg."  
  
He wonders, not for the first time, about his father. He wonders if his father knew about the tumor. He wonders if it actually does run in the family. "So they just… cut off your leg?"  
  
"Yeah. There was some that had just begun to spread into my hips so I had a lot of chemo to get rid of that."  
  
"It was expensive?" Ian looks at him for the first time in a long time. He stares at him hard.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay." They're at his house. "Thanks for… dinner." He turns to head up the stairs.  
  
"Hey Mickey?"  
  
He turns back around, "What?"  
  
"It sucks about your tumor."  
  
"Hey Gallagher?"  
  
Ian grins, "Yeah?"  
  
"It sucks about your fucking face." And then he punches the smile off of him.  
-  
Mandy opened the door right as he went to punch Ian. She stands, surprised, before pulling him away. But he does get a good hit in. She took Ian inside and nursed his bruised face. And then she went to start him a shower. And then she insisted he stay. And that's how he ended up with Ian Gallagher laying on the floor of his bedroom.  
  
What the fuck, he thinks to himself. He stares up at the black ceiling and thinks about the tumor growing in his brain. He thinks of where it could possibly be. He tries to feel it, tries to find it. He can't. He stares at the black ceiling and thinks of Ian Gallagher's tumor.  
  
He thinks of his one leg and his splotchy red hair. He thinks that Ian Gallagher is such a dumb idiot. He thinks for so long that he doesn't realize Ian is climbing into his bed until he's already there.  
  
"What the fuck, man?" He scoots over, trying to put distance between them.  
  
"What? The floor is uncomfortable." Mickey avoids looking at Ian. He doesn't want to see Ian's stump. He instead stares at the silhouette of Ian's leg.  
  
"Fine whatever. I'll sleep on the floor."  
  
"Mickey, come on. Stop being a bitch about this." Ian grips his forearm. Mickey looks back at him.  
  
"You're gay." He points out.  
  
"And I would think you're homophobic if I didn't know you are too."  
  
Oh. He does know. Ian stares at him. He's been staring at him since they left his house. He stares like he's trying to see through him. So he avoids the topic of his sexuality. "What?"  
  
"What do you mean what?"  
  
"Why the fuck are staring at me?" He clarifies and looks down. There's the empty pant leg. It doesn't freak him out as much as he expected it to.  
  
"Because you're beautiful." Oh god he thinks he's gonna vomit.  
  
"The hell? I'm not beau-"  
  
"Noel Fisher: Final Destination 2." Ian spits it out like he's reciting a line.  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"Really? You've never seen it?"  
  
"Uh, no?"  
  
"I have it at my house. I'll show it to you." Ian offers and then he climbs under the covers.  
  
"Who is Noel Fisher?"  
  
"An actor you look a lot like."  
  
"You think he's beautiful?" He asks hesitantly because he's never talked about stuff like this with other people.  
  
"I think you're beautiful and you remind me of Noel in Final Destination." He explains. Mickey feels tired, suddenly. So he curls onto his side with his back to Ian and closed his eyes. He wants to sleep.  
-  
When he wakes up, Mandy has already left to go see her secret boyfriend. Yeah. She's apparently keeping him a secret because he always scares her boyfriends away. He doesn't think so.  
  
But now it's just him and Ian who is still sleeping. That guy sleeps like a fucking log which he finds ironic for someone who went off to Afghanistan. Probably a good thing he left if he's such a heavy sleeper.  
  
He makes eggs for himself. Just himself. And there happens to be some left over. So he doesn't worry about it. He thinks he'll just throw them away. You know if Ian doesn't get down here first.  
  
In the end, Ian does come down stairs before he throws the food away. (He was never going to throw it away) They sit and talk about Mickey and Mickey's family. Ian brings it up, though.  
  
He wants to know what happened to Terry. "He had a seizure." Ian tells him he knew that. He wants to know why. "He had a brain tumor." "Brain tumors aren't genetic." Ian says. Mickey doesn't respond.  
  
He wants to know, though, how Ian knows. Because some cancers can be hereditary. Who's to say the tumor in his brain isn't because of his father? Everything else is.  
  
The shrink said it was internalized homophobia but he said he's not afraid of being gay. He's not. He feared it when his father was alive but not anymore. Not now. Now he's safe to be with whoever he wants. Then why aren't you? She had asked. He didn't have an answer.  
  
So maybe he has internalized cancer-phobia. But he doesn't fear the tumor. He isn't afraid of dying. He meant what he said. We all have a terminal something. If it isn't the cancer that kills him, it will be something else. Maybe something not as nice-sounding. Like a gun shot in the middle of a drug run. People would feel more inclined to come to the cancer guy's funeral than the drug dealer's.  
  
But he's never feared death. Or maybe he has and he's just never realized. "Mickey?"  
  
"What?" He flicks his eyes back to Ian's and away from his leg.  
  
"I lost you for a second."  
  
He thinks of saying something stupid back like: "you never had me in the first place". Instead he settles for: "Yeah, what were you yapping about?"  
-  
"Come over to my house. We can watch Final Destination 2." Ian offers as he stands at the door. He's leaning against the frame, putting most of his weight on his real leg.  
  
He doesn't want to, "No."  
  
"Come on. You're gonna be here all alone. I bet this is the first time your sister's even left you alone since your diagnosis." Ian smirks a little. He looks so smug because he knows he's right. He wants to remind him that since she's not here, he can beat the living shit out of him.  
  
"Yeah, alright Sherlock. What's your point?"  
  
"What if you seize up? No one will be here to take care of you. You'll die all alone. That's even sadder than dying from cancer. You'd kill your sister." Fuck him.  
  
"Yeah and I'm sure it'd kill her even more to know that my only company at my time of death was her fake fucking boyfriend." He snaps back. He doesn't need Ian Gallagher and his stupid  
  
"No, but it's better than being alone. She'd never forgive herself." Ian's right. The worst part about Ian being right is Ian knowing he's right.  
  
"Fine, Jesus."  
-  
Final Destination 2 and Noel Fisher. Ian is really in love with Noel Fisher. He knows the movie by heart. He can recite every line Noel utters. And Noel does look like him. Their eyes are a very similar color and their face structures resemble each other. But Noel is _blond_ and maybe a little chubbier than he is. At least in the face. But he can see it.  
  
"What did you think?" Ian asks when it's over, leaning back against the couch and smiling at him.  
  
"I think that Noel does kinda look like me."  
  
"Noel looks a lot like you." Ian corrects.  
  
He shrugs. He feels a little dizzy. He closes his eyes and reaches out to touch the back of the sofa with his hand but somehow ends up awkwardly caressing Ian's chest. "Fuck man, sorry." He blinks open and sees Ian staring at him the way he did last night.  
  
Oh shit, does he wanna fuck? He tries to put some distance between them, even more than there already is, and he ends up awkwardly almost losing his balance again. Which, of course, ends with Ian grabbing his bicep to keep him upright.  
  
"Are you alright?" He asks.  
  
"Too much tv… probably." The words feel heavy in his mouth and he feels tired. "I should get home." He mumbles.  
  
"No way I'm letting you go home like this." Ian snorts and stands up. He sweeps Mickey off his feet and carries him up the stairs. He's afraid he's putting too much weight on his prosthetic leg. Ian doesn't complain.  
  
"Ian," He protests. But he feels too weak to shove against his chest like he wants to.  
  
Ian drops him onto the bed and then pulls off his prosthetic leg. He sets it up against the dresser and then les down next to him. "So television irritates the tumor." He muses quietly.  
  
"What're you, my fuckin doctor?" But it comes out weaker than he wants it to. Ian just hums. "Where is everybody?" He forgot to ask.  
  
"Kev and V's kids' birthday." He explains.  
  
"Why aren't you there?"  
  
"Because I told Fiona I'm babysitting you." He can hear the smug ass grin on his face.  
  
"Yeah, fuck you."  
  
"You wish." No he doesn't.  
  
"Sure, tough guy." He falls asleep pretty quickly after that.  
-  
If he's honest (really honest because he would never admit this to anyone), he was afraid to go to sleep. He didn't know if he would wake up. He figures that's his life now. Never knowing if he'll wake up.  
  
Ian is gone when he does wake up. He hears the shower running but he sees the half-black kid, Liam, lying in the bed next to Ian's so it might not be him. When he heads downstairs, Debbie explains that Ian is at work. Carl is the one in the shower. He hates that Ian left him alone with his family.  
  
"He told me to tell you to stay." He doesn't know what that means.  
  
"Who? Gallagher?" She gives him a look that says _we're_ _all Gallagher_.  
  
"Ian did, yeah."  
  
"Well fuck, did he say why?" Knowing that dumbass he probably said  
  
"He said he doesn't want you to die alone." Yeah, that.  
  
He sighs and scratches his jawbone. He needs to shave. He hasn't for two days now. He stares hard at the kitchen table where only Debbie with her spread out books sits. "What're you majoring in?" He asks because it seems polite.  
  
"Nursing," She responds curtly and he knows that's the end of that conversation.  
  
What the fuck is he supposed to do until Ian gets back? He feels like a dumbass just sitting on the couch staring at the TV. When Liam wakes up, Mickey offers to take him to school. Debbie looks at him like he's stupid. "Ian said you need to stay here. Stay here." He thinks she might shank him if he doesn't. She probably will.  
-  
He ends up looking like an idiot. He sits on the couch for a while and then he realizes that he can just go home. Well, he can just go home when Debbie goes to college.  
  
He waits in Ian's room and when he hears the door open, he rushes down the stairs. It's just Ian. "The fuck? How long did you work?" He asks.  
  
"Eight hours?" Ian says it like a question.  
  
He does the mental math as quickly as he can, "You go to work at four in the fuckin morning?"  
  
"I work whatever hours they give me. It's part time." Why don't you go to college, he doesn't ask.  
-  
They lay in Ian's bed after lunch. Ian tells him he's tired. He tells him to go take a nap. Ian tells him he doesn't want to let him out of his sight. He begrudgingly treks up the stairs behind Ian.  
  
"When can I go home?" And he feels like the Gallaghers' house has become his prison.  
  
"Whenever you want."  
  
"Just not today." He's bitter.  
  
"No? You can go home today."  
  
"Debbie said you told her I need to stay." He states, feeling lost.  
  
"I did. I didn't want you to die alone. You can leave now. I'll walk you, if you want."  
  
"You said you're tired. Just sleep."  
  
"Don't leave while I'm sleeping. I'll be really pissed, Mickey."  
  
"Fuck off."  
-  
He doesn't leave when Ian's sleeping. It's a little hard to when he's sleeping himself. He wonders if it's the tumor or just Ian exhausting him. He doesn't think he's supposed to be so tired.  
  
The second time he wakes up, Ian is still asleep. And he's curled around him. He feels too warm suddenly and slips from the bed. Which, of course, causes Ian to jolt awake. Apparently, he's not as heavy a sleeper as he originally thought.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"I wanna go home." He explains and this time he's not going to stay if Ian insists.  
  
"Okay. Can I get up first?"  
  
Wow, he really feels like Ian is his babysitter. "I don't give a fuck."  
  
Ian climbs out of the bed, puts his leg on as Mickey awkwardly looks the other way, and slips on his shoes. They walk downstairs together. Carl glances up from the couch. He doesn't say anything.  
  
The walk back to his place is silent. Mickey feels less like himself. He feels tired and his body feels heavy. Too much too soon. And all he can think about is the stupid tumor in his mind. All he can think about is the stupid tumor growing slowly. The tumor hitting something important and killing him. He thinks about death.  
  
And Ian. He thinks about Ian. He hasn't had sex in a while and Ian is a nice, warm body. Ian would probably prep him good and fuck him hard. He would fuck him so hard he'd forget about the cancer. He wants to forget.  
  
So he shoves Ian into his bedroom when they get inside. He rips off his own shirt and then works on his jeans. Ian, held up by his elbows on Mickey's bed, stares at him with wide eyes. "Well?" And then Ian gets to it. He pulls off his own clothes.  
  
Mickey's underneath him before he can even think. Ian's groping around the bedside drawer in search of lube and a condom when he's caught up. "Hurry up, Firecrotch."  
  
Ian pauses and looks at him. "Are you making a joke?"  
  
"You're about to fuck me. Do you think I'm making a joke?"  
  
Ian doesn't respond. He doesn't either.  
-  
"So… you leaving?" He asks as he slips a cigarette between his teeth.  
  
Ian glances over at him, "Don't smoke while I'm around." He says instead and grabs his lighter from his hand.  
  
"Why the fuck not? And give that back." He reaches around for the lighter.  
  
"Because I don't need any more cancer than I already have." He explains. Mickey thinks he's dumb. "And no, I'm not leaving. Your sister isn't home yet."  
  
"She fucking will be. And then she'll be pissed 'cause I fucked her gay ex-boyfriend."  
  
"More like her gay ex-boyfriend fucked you." Ian corrects and then grabs the cigarette.  
  
"Fuck off. Can you at least go get a towel or something? I got jizz all over me." Mickey rolls over to face Ian, propping up on his elbow.  
  
"You're the one with two legs. Go get it yourself." He glances at the wall beside them where Ian's prosthetic leg stands. He grits his teeth and climbs awkwardly out from the bed. He can feel Ian's eyes on his ass. "Get one for me too! I've got your cum on me."  
  
"Come get it yourself." He responds from the bathroom where he cups his hand and just lets the water run it off instead.  
  
"I don't want to get up." Ian complains and he gives him a face.  
  
"I don't give a shit what you want, Gallagher." He calls from the bathroom and turns the water off. He wipes it away with the hand towel next to him.  
  
"Yeah, okay." So Ian pulls himself into a sitting position and grabs his leg. Mickey watches silently because he's never seen him really put it on before. It looks like it hurts. It looks heavy. He wonders if it's uncomfortable.  
  
Ian doesn't bother to put on any clothes, either, so Mickey can see the way his leg looks so… prosthetic. Although, that's the point, isn't it? He doesn't look away when Ian stands up and pushes past him. He knows it's more awkward when you catch someone looking away trying to be polite than when you catch someone looking. At least, for him anyway.  
  
"What?" Ian asks but he doesn't sound self-conscious.  
  
"Is it uncomfortable?" He wonders.  
  
"A little. Sometimes it pinches." He explains and takes the hand towel from his grasp. It's still a little damp so he uses it to wipe the cum away.  
  
"Oh." That's a really stupid way to respond but what do you say to something like that?  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Is it heavy?"  
  
Ian pauses on that one. "It's lighter than my real leg was, but I'm… my mind is aware it's there. It isn't exactly heavy it's just… it's there and I know it is."  
  
That doesn't make sense but he guesses it won't unless he really has one himself. "Okay."  
  
"That it?" Ian asks.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Are you hungry?"  
  
"A little."  
  
"Want me to go make us something?"  
  
"I don't give a shit." So Ian leaves the room to head to the kitchen. "Idiot!" He calls, "Put some clothes on!"  
  
Ian comes back to the doorway, "No way."  
-  
It's Mac-n-Cheese but it's good. In fact, it's probably the best Mac-n-Cheese he's ever had. Or maybe it's just the tumor.  
  
But he thinks it would have been the best even without the tumor. "It's good." Is what he says when Ian asks how it is. He doesn't need that idiot getting a bigger head than he already has.  
  
They're both still naked and Mickey remembers the time he found his father and some bitch naked on these very same chairs. He doesn't know if they've ever been cleaned. Suddenly, he's very afraid that he's going to get some sort of STD. He doesn't voice this concern to Ian.  
  
He stares at Ian, instead. He watches him, really. Ian putting Mac-n-Cheese that he couldn't have known would change Mickey's life into his mouth. That's what he watches.  
  
"What?" Ian asks around a mouthful of food.  
  
"Are you done? Because I wanna fuck." Ian is suddenly done.  
-  
Ian is dressed and they're watching some dumb show about trashians or something when Mandy comes home. She looks happy to see Ian on the couch. And when she seems to remember that Mickey could die at any second, she seems happy to see him too.  
  
"I've been with him the whole time." He explains because he knows she'll ask.  
  
She doesn't look as surprised as he thought. "Was he?"  
  
"I made Mac-n-Cheese if you want some. It's in the fridge." She smiles gratefully at Ian and heads into the kitchen.  
  
"Where were you?" He asks and tries to move from the couch but Ian grabs his wrist.  
  
"Seeing my boyfriend." She says but he already knows that.  
  
"Yeah but where? A hotel close to here? In Africa? Fucking where?" He elaborates.  
  
"Oh. Northside." Mandy comes back a few seconds later with a bowl of cold Mac-n-Cheese. He'll never understand how she likes that.  
  
Ian shift to make room for her in between them. "He works up there?" Ian asks.  
  
"Oh yeah." She looks over at Ian as she raises the spoon to her mouth.  
  
"What's he like?" Ian apparently thinks that they like to play twenty questions. Mandy isn't bothered by it.  
  
"He's like…" but she never finishes that statement.  
-  
Seizures are not what he thought they would be. He doesn't remember anything. Because that's what's supposed to happen, apparently. He blacked out. And that's what happens with mild seizures like the one he had. Just a moment of black and then confusion. Mandy and Ian were huddled around him when he came to.  
  
When did they move, he wonders. "He's like what?" He asks and Mandy looks like she wants to hit him.  
  
Ian is the one who explains that he just seized. He says he's going to call the paramedics when it happens again. He just remembers black and then confusion. When he comes to again, Ian is talking frantically on the phone. Only a few seconds. That's all he's out for. But he lost a lot in those few seconds.  
  
The ambulance is cold and the blanket scratches and Mandy's hand is squeezing his too tight. Ian was not allowed on so he's driving behind them. The paramedics are talking quickly to each other using some sort of other language.  
  
They take his pulse and blood pressure and they seem to be debating on an IV. He doesn't care. He's tired. Mandy tells them he has a brain tumor. They ask if where to take him. "I don't have a cancer doctor." He explains. "It's terminal. No use living in a hospital the rest of my life." They look sadly, pityingly at him. He feels dumb.  
  
They take him to Mercy Hospital and he gets the same doctor he had the first time.  
  
"Seizures now." The doctor says quietly. He knows time is running out.  
  
"How long?" He asks.  
  
"It depends on if you have more. It could be an isolated event. Stress could have irritated it. Not much is known about the effects of your tumor. Your sister wouldn't let us run any tests to see how much it's grown."  
  
"Yeah, well." He's proud, though, that she refused the tests.  
  
"You could have years."  
  
"If this is the only time it happens." He says and the doctor nods. "What if I keep having them?" He wonders.  
  
"Weeks, maybe, if you're lucky." He feels panic settle in his ribcage and tingle in his fingertips. He didn't realize he wanted to live until now.  
  
"I've never had a lot of luck." He mumbles.  
  
"Maybe you were just saving it up for now." And then he leaves.  
-  
"You scared the shit out of me!" Mandy exclaims and he knows she would slap him if he weren't, well, dying.  
  
"Sorry." He apologizes but he's not exactly sure what for.  
  
Ian is behind her and he knows he has something to say. Ian won't say it, though. And he thinks it might be because he's been through this. Just not the seizing.  
  
"God," She sighs and glances at Ian, "what did the doctor say?"  
  
He thinks he should lie. It would be better for her if he lied. "If this is the only time it happens, I'll be fine."  
  
Mandy stares at him, "And if it's not?"  
  
He doesn't respond because she already knows.  
  
"He'll be fine, Mandy. The doctors said I'd never recover from my Osteosarcoma and I did."  
  
But he's not in chemo, "But you had chemo." She protests.  
  
"He'll be fine. The tumor can take years to kill him." Ian places a soothing hand on her shoulder. Mickey really wants Mandy to leave so they can fuck.  
  
"He will be fine." The doctor repeats as he walks into the room. "I'm sure it's an isolated seizure. It probably won't happen again. At least, not for a very long time. We'll keep him overnight to make sure he's fine. He can be discharged in the morning."  
  
Hospital visits are expensive. He needs to get back to work. "Mickey, you'll probably want to avoid any sort of exercise that would put strain on your body. You really should just take it easy." Shit. Dammit.  
  
"Yeah, okay."  
-  
Mandy left to go to the cafeteria so he's all alone with Ian in the room. "We can't fuck." He states.  
  
"We can; we just have to take it easy." Ian corrects him, rolling his head to look at him.  
  
"Yeah. I like it hard and fast so,"  
  
Ian smirks, "I know."  
  
"You've got remission today."  
  
"What makes you say that?" Ian stands from the couch he was sitting on and leans against the bedrail.  
  
"You haven't had it at all this week. It's gotta be today."  
  
"You think?"  
  
"Yeah. Do you?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"Okay. Was it really that hard to just say yes?"  
  
Ian laughs a little at him. "No. I should probably go."  
  
"Okay. Thanks for, ya know, calling the paramedics."  
  
"Hm." Ian just hums his agreement and leaves. Mickey stares at the ceiling. The empty room feels too large and the silence too loud.  
  
He goes to grab the remote when he remembers that TV irritated his tumor. He's stuck with the silence. He goes to sleep instead.  
-  
"Mickey! We're so glad to have you back." Marc greets him as he walks in. He makes a scoffing sound in the back of his throat and walks to the chair beside Ian.  
  
"Feeling better?" He asks and leans a little closer to his ear than need be.  
  
"Where the fuck have you been?" Mickey says instead.  
  
Ian looks confused, "What do you mean?"  
  
"I got out of the hospital two days ago. Where the fuck have you been?"  
  
Ian grins, "What, did you miss me?"  
  
"Fuck you, asshole."  
  
"Mickey! Language!" Marc scolds and then begins with today's exercise.  
-  
"Are you coming back to my place?" Ian asks.  
  
"Are we gonna fuck?"  
  
Ian looks at him for a long time before suddenly, "I'm hungry."  
  
"Yeah, but are we gonna fuck?"  
  
"No, I mean, let's go to McDonalds. I'm hungry."  
  
"And then are we gonna fuck?" He seriously wants to fuck.  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Okay then."  
-  
The McDonalds is cold and the food is gross, but that's what you get for going to any sort of restaurant in the Southside. Mickey sits across from Ian and steals some of his fries when he's sure he isn't looking.  
  
"What'd you get?" He asks, observing Ian's weird looking wrap thing.  
  
Ian looks up from his food and smiles, "You wanna try some?"  
  
Why the fuck not? He shrugs and holds his hand out. Ian gives it to him. It's okay. Not as good as his bacon cheeseburger, though. "What do you think?" Ian asks.  
  
"It's okay." He responds.  
  
"Can I have some of yours?" He requests.  
  
Mickey pushes the burger towards Ian without saying a word. He watches silently as he raises it to his mouth. When he's finished and pushing it back, he asks, "What did you think?"  
  
"Better than mine." Ian laughs and Mickey agrees.  
  
"Give me your coke."  
  
"What, why?" Ian looks down at his drink.  
  
"Because mine tastes like ass and I wanna see if yours does, too." So Ian wordlessly hands it over and Mickey tries. "Yeah, it tastes like ass."  
  
"You would know." Ian mumbles.  
  
"The fuck was that, Gallagher?" He kicks his shin under the table.  
  
"Ow, shit. I said you would know what ass tastes like."  
  
"More like you would." He snorts and sucks down some more of Ian's coke.  
  
"Hey asshole, that's mine." Ian yanks it from Mickey's side of the table.  
  
"Fuck off."  
-  
Ian collapses into his lap dramatically, "I'm exhausted." He sighs, covering his face.  
  
"You're not." He assures and turns the volume on the TV up.  
  
"No really. Remission exhausts me." He looks down, surprised.  
  
"You didn't tell me you had remission today."  
  
"I didn't know you wanted me to."  
  
"Why the fuck wouldn't I?"  
  
Ian shifts and looks up at him. His eyes are extra green today. Not that he notices that sort of faggy shit. 'Cause he doesn't. "You don't seem very interested."  
  
"Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear about it." He states. "Will you grab me a beer from the fridge?"  
  
Ian scoffs and presses his elbow into Mickey's leg, "You dumbass. I'm not gonna get you a beer."  
  
"Why the fuck not?"  
  
"I'm not your damn maid." Ian exclaims.  
  
Mickey snorts, "Whatever. What the hell else are you, then?"  
  
"The only fuckin friend you got." Ian laughs at himself.  
  
"Fuck you, cock sucker. I have other friends."  
  
"Name one." Ian grins up at him. Mickey shoves him off his lap.  
  
"Fuckin…" He doesn't finish that and Ian laughs at him. "Fuck off. Go get me a beer."  
  
Ian makes a dramatic scene of him taking of his prosthetic. "I can't."  
  
"You asswipe. You can't use that as an excuse." He complains.  
  
Ian grins, "It's not an excuse."  
  
"Whatever, you piece of shit."  
  
Ian pulls himself up and then tugs Mickey to him. "Wanna fuck?"  
  
"Hell yeah. I thought you were tired?"  
  
"I am. Want you to ride me."  
  
"Shit, I don't wanna do all the work."  
  
Ian scoffs, "How do you think I feel?"  
  
"You're not as lazy as me."  
  
"Can we stop talking so I can fuck you?" Ian tugs off his shirt pointedly.  
  
"More like so I can fuck myself."  
  
"Hey, complain again and I'll let you find some other dick to shove up your ass."  
  
Mickey laughs and pulls off his own shirt.  
-  
"So…" Mandy starts, leaning in to Mickey. Ian is busy at work. Mickey wishes he could go back to his own work.  
  
"So what, bitch?"  
  
"So what's going on with you and Ian?" He looks at her. They're sitting at the kitchen table, Mandy's Mac-n-Cheese sitting in front of them in bowls. He's half-dressed, wearing Ian's jeans that he left the other day.  
  
"The fuck you mean?"  
  
"You two have been spending an awful lot of time together." She says suggestively. He's not about to girl talk with his fucking sister. He rolls his eyes and shovels the noodles into his mouth to avoid the question.  
  
She's still staring expectantly at him after he swallows. "We hang out. I thought you wanted me to make friends?"  
  
"Yeah, not a boyfriend."  
  
"Fuck you, he's not my boyfriend." He denies quickly and Mandy stares at him like she can see straight through it.  
  
"You guys go on dates. And you fuck really loud. I'm pretty sure he's your boyfriend." She says.  
  
"What? We have never gone on a date."  
  
"Mickey, you guys go out after every group meeting and sometimes he'll bring you food after work." Mandy explains slowly like he's a child. He stares at her because when she says it like that, yeah it sounds like they're dating. "And you guys spend all day with each other. And then you'll go over to his house for family dinners. Tell me you aren't fucking boyfriends."  
  
He doesn't.  
-  
The first day he doesn't see Ian, he blows it off as him being too tired. The second day he tries not to feel worried because Ian has a life outside of him, obviously. The third day he knows something weird is going on. He asks Fiona where Ian is. She says he gets like this sometimes. He'll just… disappear for days.  
  
The fourth day, he asks about Lip. He asks where Ian goes when he disappears. Fiona says she thinks he goes to Lip. He asks where Lip is. She doesn't know.  
  
The fifth day, Mandy leaves to go see her secret boyfriend. He's gone almost all day searching in all the places he can think of. All the places he searched for Terry when he went missing. Or Iggy, or Joey, or Tony, or Collin. He searches and he can't find anything. When he gets home, he can hear his sister fucking some guy. Secret boyfriend, obviously.  
  
The guy tries to sneak out while Mickey is watching TV but mostly biting his nails hoping Ian will come marching in. "Lip fucking Gallagher." He drawls when he sees Lip out of the corner of his eye. They went to high school together. Well, when Mickey went to high school.  
  
"Shit. Mickey?" Lip turns to him and Mickey stands up.  
  
"Where's Ian?" He asks.  
  
Lip scoffs and looks at him long and hard, "Did you try Boys Town?"  
  
What is that supposed to mean? "What? I thought he's with you."  
  
Lip's eyebrows furrow, "I haven't seen Ian since he went off his rocker years ago." Since before the cancer, is all he hears. Lip doesn't know about Ian's cancer. And Mickey doesn't know what Lip means by _off_ _his rocker_.  
  
"What is Boys Town?" He asks instead.  
  
"The gay part of the Northside. I wouldn't expect someone like you to know." Funny, because I'm fucking your brother.  
  
"Thanks."  
-  
Boys Town is where he remembers meeting the guy who first fucked him. He remembers meeting the guy who changed his mind about sex, too, in Boys Town. He doesn't know where to look for Ian, so he stuffs the only picture he has of him into his jean pocket and searches.  
  
He looks in every club until he finally finds one who knows where Ian is.  
  
Dancing. Ian's dancing. The man points to Ian, clad in tight black shorts and nothing else, dancing— _grinding_ —on some old dude. He grabs Ian's should and pulls him back.  
  
Ian stumbles and Mickey watches as his prosthetic twists a little which lets him know that it's too loose. "Ian, what the hell are you doing?" He demands and makes a move to adjust his leg. Ian pushes against his chest, wobbly in a way that Mickey only knows high people to be.  
  
"You have to wait your turn." He explains and his words sound heavy. He's fucking high.  
  
"You have to get the hell out of here." He insists and grips Ian's wrist.  
  
Ian sways a little and his eyes are unfocused on his eyebrow. "Mm, no."  
  
"Uh, yeah. Let's go."  
  
Ian shoves hard at him, "I said no!" He notices a bouncer coming at them from the corner of his eye.  
  
"Dammit." He mutters.  
  
"Curtis, is everything alright?"  
  
Ian looks down at him, "Yeah. He was just leaving."  
  
"Yeah, okay. Don't choke on any gray pubes." He calls after Ian who's walking away from him. He turns into the bouncer's chest and his head really hurts. "Yeah alright, I'm fuckin going."  
-  
Mickey demands to know where Lip lives from Mandy. She's silent before he explains it's about Ian.  
  
Lip lives in a small apartment close to MIT. He's home, smoking, when Mickey barges in. "You could fucking knock!" He calls from the living room.  
  
Mickey snorts and follows the sound of his voice. "What the hell is Ian doing working at the Fairy Tale?"  
  
Lip rolls his head against the back of the couch and stares at him. He then stubs the cigarette out against the wall before letting it fall to the floor. "I don't know, Milkovich, why don't you ask him."  
  
"Yeah, he's a little busy suckin old man dick and getting high to talk right now."  
  
Lip takes a deep breath and heaves himself up. He scratches his nose. And then his leg. "Ian went crazy after he got back from the army."  
  
"What the hell does that mean?" He doesn't know any of this. He and Ian don't talk about this.  
  
Lip glances over at a plant growing in the corner—weed, he realizes after looking at it. "He just ran off. He got his prosthetic," so he does know about the cancer, "and then he took off. Did he tell you about our mom?" Mickey shakes his head. "She had cancer, too. Breast cancer. She took a lot of pills that made her depressed so they put her on anti-depressants which just made her suicidal. She slit her wrists at Thanksgiving.  
  
"Anyway, Mom had this thing call Li-Fraumeni Syndrome. She passed it on to one of us. We didn't know which until Ian came home with cancer."  
  
"Wait, what the fuck is Li-whatever?"  
  
"It's just where cancer is genetic. Anyway, so Ian had his leg cut off and they were gonna put him through a bunch of chemo but he ran off."  
  
Wait. "So… Ian never got chemo?"  
  
Lip looks at him like he's an idiot, "That's what I just said."  
  
He thinks he's gonna barf. He does. "Shit, man! Did you just fucking puke!?" Lip looks disgusted and jumps back. Thank god he doesn't have carpet. "You better fucking clean that up!"  
  
"I will." And he does. And then he leaves. He doesn't want to hear any more about Ian. He knows enough.  
-  
Ian won't come back unless he makes him. He knows that. He's just too afraid to face Ian. To know that Ian's been sick this entire time. That Ian's dying. That Ian's been lying. He grits his teeth and wants to tear off his own skin.  
  
But Ian's living pretty dangerously right now. So Mickey goes back to the club.  
  
"I don't give a fuck what you say, Ian, we're going back." Ian glares at him and tries to shake his grip.  
  
"You don't know anything, Mickey, so get the fuck off me."  
  
"I know you fuckin lied. I know you never had chemo and I know you're full of bullshit. So just… just fucking come with me and we can sort this shit out." He's begging but he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't know how to get Ian home.  
  
Ian shoves him away. "You think you know but you don't, Mickey. You don't fucking understand."  
  
"Yeah funny. You're talking to a fucking walking bomb. I can die any second Ian. This fucking tumor doesn't go away." Ian shoves him away again and this time the bouncers come up and "politely" ask him to leave.  
-  
He stands outside in the cold for hours before Ian's shift is over. It starts to snow. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket that really isn't warm.  
  
He finally sees Ian wander out with some old guy. He goes on and on about party favors and asks if Ian's cold. Mickey finally makes his move.  
  
"He's a fucking minor!" He exclaims and the guy throws money at them. Sucker, he thinks. When he turns back around, Ian's collapsed on the snow.  
  
"Fucker." He groans and heaves Ian over his shoulder.  
  
"You call for Über?"  
  
He hesitates, "Yeah I called for an Über."  
-  
He's sitting on the bed watching Ian when he wakes up. He groans and rolls over, rubbing his eyes. He thinks he should have left the prosthetic on. He could already see how rubbed raw and irritated his nub was.  
  
"Fuck." Ian groans and looks like he's about to struggle to his feet.  
  
"Don't move." Mickey says and uses his foot to push Ian back onto the floor.  
  
"Shit, where am I?" He mumbles.  
  
"You still high or something? You're at my house, dumbass."  
  
"God, you're talking way too loud. I need a shower."  
  
"I bet you do, after a night of grinding all over old guys." He comments easily, leaning back to admire Ian in his little makeshift bed on the floor.  
  
Ian squints up at him. "Oh shit." He moves quickly and pukes onto the floor.  
  
Mickey's nose wrinkles in disgust. "I bet it would be nice to have another leg right about now, wouldn't it?"  
  
Ian doesn't say anything, just heaves again and pukes.  
  
"You fuckin deserve it." He spits angrily. "You fuckin deserve to be vomiting out of every hole you have."  
  
"Fuck you, Mickey." Ian spats before he pukes again.  
  
"Fuck you, Ian, for lying to me. When the hell were you gonna tell me, huh? When you were fucking dead?"  
  
And then Ian looks up at him for real. He looks gross. He's got vomit on his lip and the room really is starting to smell. "Who told you?"  
  
"Fucking Lip, that's who. The goddamn brother you haven't seen in years had to tell me. So fuck you, Ian Gallagher." He grabs the prosthetic leg from the wall beside him and shoves it into Ian's chest before storming off. He heads to the kitchen to grab something to clean the floor with.  
-  
After Ian has had his shower and the vomit is cleaned up, they sit at the kitchen table. Ian swallows four Ibuprofen and then lays his head on the cool table. Mickey sits and stares angrily at him. "How long do you have?" He asks.  
  
"I don't know. Not long. I stopped going to the doctors a year ago." Ian mutters.  
  
Mickey inhales, "So you're a dead man walking."  
  
"When I last went, the cancer hadn't spread all that bad. It seemed like I had about a year and a half." He explains.  
  
"Yeah, and how long has it been since you last went?" Ian is silent. He takes that as his answer.  
  
"I was gonna tell you." He says instead.  
  
"Yeah, when?" Mickey stares expectantly at him. Ian hesitates. "Exactly."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Sorry doesn't change shit, Gallagher." He doesn't think of their relationship then. He doesn't think to bring it up. He should have.  
-  
He last speaks to Ian the day before he dies. They fuck desperately and then Ian apologizes again. Mickey finally gives in and says it's okay, that he forgives him.  
  
Ian stays the night and he makes Mickey breakfast. He makes him banana pancakes, his favorite. He threads his fingers through his hair and murmurs one last I'm sorry. He kisses him before he leaves. Mickey doesn't threaten to rip his tongue out. It's the only time they ever kiss. The I love you is on the tip of his tongue as Ian leaves. Mickey feels dread fill his stomach. He's not sure how he knows.  
-  
Ian Gallagher died February 17, 2021. Fiona calls him that night, her voice quivering and full of tears as she explains that Ian was rushed to the hospital after he got home. He had collapsed, his bones giving out. He died a few hours later.  
  
Mickey doesn't cry. At least, he won't admit that he does. Mandy rubs his back and tells him it's okay to cry if he wants to. He says he doesn't want to. He thinks of what Ian would say. He'd call him a baby and laugh at him but then he'd sit down. He'd offer himself as comfort but Mickey would never give in. He'd just stare at the wall like he's doing right now.  
  
The next day, a letter arrives in the mail addressed to him in handwriting he's unfamiliar with.  
  
 _Dear Mickey,  
Wait. That sounds weird. Um…  
Mickey,  
Yeah, that's better.  
So Mickey,  
I died. I should've told you. I was going to. I should've and I didn't and that's my fault. Not yours. Uh… gosh this was a lot less awkward in my head. Okay. So, I've been working at the Fairy Tale. I know you know where that is because I fucked you there once. Long ago and you were high as shit so you probably don't remember. Or you do and you just haven't said anything.  
So, yeah. We fucked a long time ago. But that's not my point. I've been saving up since we met. I don't know how long it's been, I'm writing you this as I've just started saving.  
I know you don't have a lot of money and you can't work 'cause of your tumor. So I'm working for you.  
I've been sending all of the money I can spare from every paycheck to the hospital. Hopefully when I'm gone I'll have saved enough for you to get chemo and surgery and whatever else.  
I know you don't want to. I know you won't accept it, so I told Mandy. She'll make sure you go. Haha! I hope you aren't too mad and I hope you don't make the same stupid mistake I did. You have people who love you here. They need you. Fucking Mandy needs you. What is she gonna do when you're gone?  
So you better fight. I didn't push through my damn bone cancer for nothing.  
I love you  
Ian  
_  
And Mickey does cry at that.  
-  
"Hey Mickey, thanks for coming." Fiona murmurs in his ear as he pushes past.  
  
It's fuckin cold outside. It's cold as shit and his hair is gone. Chemo is going good and his doctor is planning on surgery sometime soon. He wanted it before the funeral but Mickey knew he wouldn't recover in enough time to be there. And Fiona told him Ian would've wanted him to write his eulogy.  
  
He takes his seat in the front row next to Mandy and the other Gallaghers. He's surprised to see Lip there who nods at him. He pulls out the folded piece of paper from his pocket with shaky hands. The minister guy takes his place at the podium and goes on and on about how great of a young man Ian was and how he'll be missed. He wants to snap that he didn't even know Ian when he's called up.  
  
"Ian Gallagher is an asshole. He lied about getting chemo and told my sister and me he was better. He told everyone he was better. And then he didn't even bother to tell me he lied. In the end, I had to hear it from fucking Lip—shit I said I told myself I wouldn't cuss," He glares down at the corner of the dark wood.  
  
"I had to hear it from Lip. And I really don't know why I was chosen to do this, because I obviously didn't know Ian better than any of you. I knew the size of his dick and that's about it. I don't have nice things to say except that he was a great fuck, but you probably don't wanna hear about that.  
  
"You wanna hear that Ian was a great guy. And he was. Fuck, he was. He understood better than anyone. He understood my tumor and the fact that I didn't want chemo and all the dumb stuff that came with my stupid brain tumor.  
  
"He was patient with me when I forgot what I was talking about and picked things up for me when I was too tired. He'd lie with me until I fell asleep and he'd make me breakfast when I woke up. He made the best Mac-n-Cheese I've ever had in my entire life.  
  
"And I'm sure you wanna hear how much he'll be missed," Fuck, he blinks back tears, "because he will be missed. I would eat dinner with the Gallaghers at least once a week. He helped Liam with his homework, he paid for things Fiona couldn't—things I can't—he listened when Debbie or Carl complained and he was really good at solving conflicts.  
  
"And we spent every day together. We spent almost every fucking day together. I didn't want to make friends when I went to that stupid support group. And I did.  
  
"Now I'm no mathematician but I know some things. For instance, I know that there's an infinite amount of numbers between one and two. One point one, one point zero one, one point zero zero one, and so on. I didn't know Ian Gallagher very long, but he gave me infinity in a number of days. And I'll never forget that. Thank you."  
  


**YOU ARE INVITED!** **  
To Mickey Milkovich's funeral  
Febraury 17, 2031**

**Author's Note:**

> That's all, folks! I accept prompts for whatever you wanna see on my [tumblr ](http://anoldmarriedcouple.tumblr.com/)!


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